Coruscate
by properlycolorful
Summary: There are moments in life where lights that blind don't just come from the stars or the sun. The most brilliant lights come from within. Kim/Jerry.
1. Reading

**AN:**

I've been wishing to write some KERRY for a while. I mean, there are many fics for them on here, well, a few, but I've wanted to write something for a couple of months. I also wanted it to be something fun, something I could continue, but without restrictions, so this is what I whipped up.

This is a verb series, so it could be any word that is moving or has to do with moving. It usually ends in 'ing', doesn't have to, but it usually does. Anyway, what makes this different from previous works is that I'm allowing requests! The prompt could be a verb or an action and if you send it through the reviews or preferably PM inbox, I'll do it as soon as possible. I just really wanted to do something different, but continuous and something that allowed readers to participate.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Requests in the reviews or PM inbox.

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**I. reading**

Jerry is vivacious; he can never stay still for too long. He hops, he talks, and he eats just to avoid the drawl of time.

Kim knows that. She knows that when he's sitting still, quiet, that he's unravelling and it's happening before her. She knows that when he opens a book, just slightly, that his layers are more diverse than they appear. He's more than what everyone gives him.

It's no wonder she sees him differently, sees him glow a little, when he opens a book and his eyes are tied infinitely, because he never does that. He never just sits and reads. She's captivated on the cynosure activity and sees something distinctive. Kim sees something distinctive than the day before or the morning earlier. His silence is rare, almost vulnerable and she sees him differently. He flickers light blindingly in her eyes and sometimes that's why she stares so much. She stares because it's unusual, peculiar, and odd, but beautiful all at once. No one ever gets to see him in that light, in his light.

Jerry Martinez. Reading.

The pages are twirled in his fingers, brown eyes entranced passionately, as he read every letter that passed like a movie reel. Jerry never looks up or notices her eyes. He reads intently and shuffles once the position he's sitting in grows tedious. Occasionally, he slides down the chair and places the book on a nearby table, but it never really happens. He usually sits there, hair flat, bedridden, and sock dangling off his feet, with not a knowledge of her existence. His words are long gone and his mind with no remembrance of time. He just sits there with the clothes he slept in—black long-sleeve accompanied with grey sweatpants—zero attention focused on the girl before him.

She smiles. "What are you reading?"

"A book." He mumbles, scratching his head dismissively. She'd be offended, but it never happens often. She's usually the focus, the "princess of his novella" or something; her defense is never tarnished.

Kim sits up from her bed—hair propped up in a bun, with her plaid pajamas falling off her hip—and squeezes herself in the chair with him. He never says anything, because his attention is in absolute disappearance from her, but his head falls on her shoulder, almost always, inevitably. She lets the feel of his hair against her skin—warm, soft—calm her senses.

She lets the moment curl her in softly.

"Man, I'm hungry."

Of course. Kim sighs.

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**II. reading**

Kim is a very competitive girl. She gets motivated by just a simple negative outburst. She gets bored quickly without motivation or stimulation of that kind. Challenges set out, that are easy for the blonde, are always something that dry out pretty fast for her. It's a difficult demand for Jerry.

However, when she is not prowling on the edge for competition, she can be a very quiet girl.

He sees her reading, her glasses sliding from her nose, and he feels all tingly, electric inside. The bottom of his stomach swirls with the effect of seeing her so... differently, that he sees a light and feels the warmth string him in. There's so much variation than the previous girl, who fished for dry cereal to fix her hunger, and the girl who reads, because there's not much to do and the book appears enthralling. It's something serene and beautiful—she's beautiful.

He hates reading, very much so, but it happens to him more than usual. He reads and reads, but there's not much interest set. He's just bored and the book seems like a movie to him once he scrunched his eyes enough, the cover effaced with vibrant hues of red, purple, blue, and black.

He looks up from the book at her.

She's focused, eyes planted on the words across the book. Her hands are holding the pages, flipping another one every two minutes. The boy who stares feels a smile tweak his face. She's so oblivious to his staring that he feels amused, almost daring. Kim gets vexed, when he stares at her for too long, it makes her uncomfortable. Yet, as the book lies in her petite, red painted fingers, she flips and flips and never notices his eyes. Her legs are housed by jeans and her feet are cladded in fuzzy pink boots. The pink shirt clings to her stomach under the thick blue sweater that falls amongst the floor and Jerry stares in awe. He takes all of the glimpses he can get, knowing that this would be the only time he'll get to stare without question. She just won't believe that he stares, because she's beautiful.

He grins, almost resembling a leprechaun. "Whatcha reading?"

"A book." She responds, smiling deviously.

He catches the gesture and quickly understands why she did it. It doesn't take long for him to lightly punch her legs in response. She squeals like a girl, which she hardly does, before she punches him harshly on his arm. The war commences and it's brief before the two are tackling each other and Jerry begins screaming just as loud. Their limbs tied and feet underneath each other, Kim struggles to keep her book in her hand. Jerry's quick to her weaknesses, he loves her for them, so extends his tongue and aims for the arm with the book.

"No!" She giggles angrily, her laughter beyond the control of her anger.

"Yes!" Jerry urges, his tongue close to her arm.

Unlike Kim, Jerry never lets her finish reading. Kim thinks it's because he lives to torment her and Jerry says it's because he loves her.

Same thing, if you think about it.


	2. Repairing

**AN: **

Okay, here is the new chapter. I'll be posting once a week, or at least trying to. This was supposed to be up by Sunday, so yeah.

As you can see, it's slightly, only slightly longer than the other one. I incorporated just a bit more dialogue for this one, than I probably will for the next one, so just enjoy the verbal fluff.

Send me a prompt if you'd like to see your idea here! Review or PM inbox!

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**Reviews Response:**

**Shakeema28 - It's kind of nice encountering a Kick fan who enjoys Kerry all the same. It's also an ego booster to know they enjoyed your story, haha. Thank you for reading though, you're so kind! **

**WildCitrusSunflower - Thank you for the prompt and the very generous review. You are literally such an amazing follower to all my stories. I've gotta literally send you roses for that. This story does stand as a living together, older kind of thing, so yeah. As you can see, this chapter is your prompt: fixing, only I altered the name to fit more specifically on the region you were talking of. Also, I think everybody's gotta have a Jerry headcanon on repairing, it just makes too much sense.**

**krstic - Thank you so much! You guys always make me feel better and more skillful than I actually am with all this generosity and loyalty to my stories, which ever they are. I want to thank you just for that, your reviews make me so giddy like a kid, haha. Anywho, the next chapter I'll do sleeping or cooking, seeing as I just finished this one. Hopefully, you'll like it.**

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**I. repairing**

Jerry believes in his girl. He does.

She's pretty determined, wether she's ignorant on the subject or not. She fixes what she can and vouches for those who can't. It's a matter of predictability when it comes to her stubborn and ambitious sense of thinking, but she doesn't really mind that when she's succeeded at what she's done. She can do anything she puts her mind to—karate, cooking—or at least attempting to—learning and all the latter. It only bothers her intensively, he notices, when someone asks or the time comes for reparations.

She's awful at repairing.

Her hands are too fast and lack caution. The fingernails are tinted in vibrant colors that always harmonize with her clothing, they get soaked in gasoline or sink grime and he sees the pout that forms on her face when it does. She's meant to sneak in on attacks, hop on a foot and do a high kick, or punch a gut in the midst of a fight. Kim doesn't know how to keep her hand on a handle, while tinkering with another one in her right. She doesn't know how to hold something tight, keeping sure that the water still passes through. It's different, difficult for her. The mere problem is that so many people think it's because she's a girl.

Kim is fantastic, gender aside, at what she does. Jerry knows this. She can beat anyone in a fight, excluding Jack, and do so without breaking a nail. She's just terrible at anything that has to do with appliances.

"Kim. Chica." He starts and ends, a cereal bowl in his palm. He has a mouth full of Lucky Charms and a spoon in his right hand. The words he rolls off his tongue are incoherent, yet he knows they agitate Kim even further. "Don't break the pipe."

As always, the girl feels underestimated. She shouts, her exhaustion and annoyance apparent. "SHUT UP, JERRY!"

Jerry jolts. His cereal spills onto his fingers. "Wha!—I didn't even say anything! I just—don't break the pipe. Geez, girl, relax."

"I am relaxed!" She shouts back, her vexation causing tension.

Her hands fixate on the large pipe coated in silver. It's arranged in a straight angle and is brimmed with food and liquids that Kim hardly wants to take a look at, atop cleaning products and old sponges. Gradually, she turns the large drain in her hand and uses her left to help herself lean. It's tough and resistant against her force, she grumbles as it fights in her palms. There's this slight gap in between the connection of the pipe and another silver drain in the crook of her hand, but it doesn't show any success towards her work. The pipe is still resistant, no matter the direction she tries to turn to. It's worse than actually unclogging a drain and cleaning it over with. It makes no gesture that it's loosening and it's rough to her hands. She'd complain, but she realizes she wanted to do this. She was set out to fixing the pipe arranged before her and now she has to finish the job.

"Just relax girl, you can do it." He says, kicking her lightly, almost teasingly on the back. She softens at this.

Jerry watches her slow down. It's beauty at its finest.

She breathes in heavily. Her back straightens and her shoulders release from their tension. The hands on the pipe loosen slightly, but never lose the strength she's placed on them. It's gradual, but eventually, the pipe unscrews beneath her palm and she jumps onto her feet from the excitement.

He sees her glow with the sweat slick on her face. Everything slows down for a minute. She smiles and the edge of her mouth curls at the corner. Her eyes swirl brown and big, Jerry forgets to breathe. He feels beyond lucky—not in regards to her reparations skills and temper—because she is the most beautiful thing in the world.

"I did it!" Her voice heightens in pitch, as she claps her hands. Kim, ecstatic, heads towards Jerry and wraps her arm around his neck in rejoice. She never notices how giddy she is about it until he brings it up later, under the sheets. Nevertheless, he holds his bowl far from her and wraps his other hand around her lean frame. She smells like toilet water.

He's not telling her that, of course. He's not an idiot.

Despite the success, the goal is busted once all the food in the grain system unclogs onto the kitchen floor. Kim stares back with eyes that could melt metal with one glance.

"Well," he begins, taking the bowl with him as he walks, "_te dige_ not to break the pipe. I'm not cleaning that up."

"JERRY!"

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**II. repairing**

Jerry is slow. Kim can't disagree with that.

He can be very slow when it comes to certain things. It isn't necessarily a rare thing, but his intelligence hardly lacks, most of the time, when he's doing his college packets. Unlike in the morning, when he gets up and hits every other wall in the apartment. She worries that it might be the reason he gets even slower and his IQ drops, but it hardly matters when he gets right back on his feet after a few minutes and starts talking of his classes last night. Or after he's fallen out of bed and his body lies tangled in sheets she's trying to recover in her hands. He groans from the tumble, a gesture that he hasn't lost his actual sense from falling nearly all the time, and Kim flaps back onto the bed with not a considerate thought in mind.

However, Jerry is not stupid. Slow and stupid are two different things and Kim likes to prove them once they're said or written.

Jerry is a clever little genius, especially when it comes to appliances and cars and things related to it.

He sticks his head under a car and his IQ heightens by 99 points. She's forced to stare at him in awe, every time he starts talking about car parts or tools she's never heard of. Her ignorance on a scale that feels far too offensive for her ego. Carburetors and engines—ramblings of his large mouth—become things she eventually grows tired of hearing day on and day forth.

Yet, she loves seeing him so..._not slow_?

He lowers himself underneath the car, a sleeveless t-shirt strewn on his lean frame. His back glistens with sweat and oil, Kim pretends not to blush or totally get thrown under the loop of his appearance. She stares at him, when he gets out from underneath, and moves towards the front of the car. His jeans are slack on his hips and his hair is luminous with probable grime. He has oil splattered on sides of his face, which carries a determined, strenuous gaze. He's never been messier or dirtier, yet Kim almost feels like he's coruscating with all of this grime stuck on his skin, drying into crusty pigments of filth.

He shines better than any of the royalty she's encountered.

"Kim," he starts, his voice raspy, "pass me the wrench."

Kim knows that he's dedicated and motivated. She knows that he's too submerged in his work to notice if he's thirsty. It's almost a crazy thought, in the hot, blinding sun that plasters in the sky, that he's not in heat or currently burning under that car. It's more than obvious that his thirst is stinging his tongue and making it hard to focus. A wrench may be the only thing he makes it clear that he wants—as everything in life—but it is definitely far off from what he's probably missing and needing at the moment.

She makes a quick run to grab a cold, icy cup of water and a heavy wrench that lays on the corner of the tool cabinet. Her legs move rapidly, brisk towards the kitchen, though he doesn't notice that her presence is not there. After all, Jerry is still the slow guy from just one hour ago, who doesn't seem to notice that his pants are inside out.

"Jerry." She coos sarcastically.

"Yeah? Is it the wrench?" He sticks his head out, the car tip hitting his forehead. Oil strewn across his poignant cheekbones, as he smiles glisteningly under the sun.

"Here."

She extends the cup of water, placing the wrench on the floor. Jerry grabs at the glass desperately, gulping the tiny cup in an instant. His mouth edges gleam lightly from the water that rims the glass. Kim quickly leans on her calves to move closer to the ground beside him to grab the cup gently from his hand. He starts again, the black-streaked cheekbones rising as he talks. "Thanks Kim."

He smears the water off his face and presses a quick, gentle kiss on her left cheek. _Fireworks on the Fourth of July all over again_. She feels the gasoline streaks slide against her face as he does, and even as the notion is slightly filthy, she smiles.

"I love you." He murmers, grabbing the back of her neck for just one more kiss. The gasoline tints her cheeks like ketchup again. Kim ignores the feeling in the bliss of the kiss, her stomach tingling and toes curling.

If he makes her feel good, she's okay with a little grime. However, he better not try anything fancy after.

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**AN:**

As you know, you can request a prompt in the review or PM inbox and I will get to it. I really love this idea so much and you guys seem to too, so don't be scared and send some in. Also, thank you for the reviews and for reading!

Until next week (_probably_).


	3. Sleeping

**AN: **

I said a week and it's been two. I'm so sorry. I just couldn't force myself to write and usually it comes out awful if I do.

Anyway, here's the one krstic requested! It's not as great as I thought it would be, but as a writer, it's okay to have some writings you're not proud of. We're all learning and growing, especially from our mistakes, never be disappointed in yourself. Every single work is as important as the other, no matter how "good" or "bad" it is. It's you in progress, so value it very much.

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**Review Responses:**

**3 just a little paranoid 3 - Thank you so much for this review! I literally read it like ten times and squealed the twelfth time, haha. It's a goal to be all of those things and you telling me that I am has made me feel accomplished.**

**Allison Diamond - Thank you for telling me so! I really appreciate these constructive critiques. It's caring, polite, and makes me really pay mind to my mistakes, so thank you.**

**WildCitrusSunflower - Thank you! Thank you! You're super awesome! You're singing prompt is on my list, so don't be worried that I'm ignoring you. I have to do that one, it's just the ideal prompt. **

**krstic - Thank you! This is such a motivation to anything I do. You're so kind, goodness! **

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**I. sleeping**

Sometimes, Kim awakes in the middle of the night.

She often awakes to the most nicest moments, when the night is just beginning and no one is opening a lid yet. The harsh rain clatters on the thin window sill, beneath the white cloth curtain that hangs elegantly across, while she lies underneath the covers. Her eyes still flutter fuzzily, trying to grasp the surroundings. Everything is so calm, different from when the day breaks through the window. She meets vision with nothing, for the darkness prevents any understanding of her exterior. She only catches what the moon illuminates across the wall of her room: the wall that lies opposite her and the boy that lies in front of her.

Jerry's body resembles something alike mountains, beneath her fingers, against the stars. She revels in the night and in the loneliness, isolation. Jerry doesn't speak here; he can't brag if she looks at him with her gazing eyes or strokes his hair for three hours. He's unresponsive to her affectionate gestures and she'd rather not hear his mouth anyway.

His breath shoots softly out of his nose as she presses a finger against the back of his head.

Kim moves softly through his short, brown hair. The strands fall against the tip of her fingers, between the spaces of her hands. She tucks it in her palm and loses it, from just how delicately feathery it is, before she moves again inside of his hair for more strands. She feels his skin, just below the neck, rub against her knuckles as she drags each strand down for another soft tug. The brown, sleek hair amidst her finger prickling her skin, before she lets it go. Just as she brought another down into her palm, for a moment as the hair nested, her fist moves towards the hair settled at the top, curve of his head. More strands, much thicker gravel through her rough fingers. She lies lazy, stroking, tugging at his hair, as she fights with her blurry pupils telling her of something else that her body needs. She just wants a few more minutes tugging at his hair and she'll shut her eyes for good. The feel of his hair, of his stupid conditioner that works better than hers, always makes her fall asleep when she's woken up and she can't sleep. It makes her feel at ease.

Removing her hand slowly, to her dismay, she moves it to his side.

Kim slides her arm through his, briefly knocking her elbow and his in the process. She tangles her small fingers through his large ones, and lets her head fall onto the pillow below her. The arm moves underneath his, falling into the warmth of his skin, and she tries to count all the reasons he'll pick at her a little tomorrow. She tries to count why he always picks at her the day after. It's not like she can control it, she just can't help that he's warm. Or that he has really soft hair.

One: he loves her.

Two: he loves knowing that she, unfortunately, loves him.

Three: he loves seeing her mad.

Four: why is she doing this?

Five: she falls to bed and never really understands this list until the next midnight awakening.

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**II. sleeping**

Jerry wakes up to her long arms around him.

He turns over to his side and gazes at the young girl asleep. Her blue tank top hanging loose on her forearm, the strap falling across her soft shoulder. Jerry took it in his fingers and moved it back onto the crook of her neck, where his fingers settled for a while. The length of her golden hair nestled on it, as she snored loudly.

He found it incredibly funny that she appeared graceful and majestic, but the sounds she transmitted said otherwise. He really believed there was some kind an ape stuck inside of her. She just can't possibly snore that loud without being from monstrous descent. Jerry remembered to tell her this later, before baking a few of his Grandma's cookies to calm her down.

Softly, she shuffles closer to him, fingers clamping around his back tightly. He smirked, before he gently moved his fingers to her cheek. The skin was soft and sloped over to her eyes with morning light that loomed over it. He couldn't disagree that she was insanely beautiful. He could look at her all day.

However, the sun wouldn't always shine in the sky. He would have to wake her up soon.

She moaned lightly, as he thought, and turned to the window. Jerry backed slightly away, not in want of her sleep to be disrupted. He knew that she was kind of an ape when she woke up angry, her fists would clench, eyebrows furrow, words probably too mean, snark to say. He liked her better asleep. She was calm, vulnerable, most of all, quiet. Her hair fell to the sheets warped around the bed and her neck sloped like the bottom of a steep hill. He looked at it for a moment, the delicacy, vulnerability, before he pressed his hand on her cheek tenderly. The choice of words on what to say to her, something that didn't get her irritated, rolled through his mind. He knew that he could say something sweet and still she'd be on her highest nerve, just because she preferred sleep more than anything. Jerry had to think about something that would not bother her to wake up for.

Oh, but that was hardly possible anyway—sleep was like Jerry to her, if not for the swag he had almost emitting off him. He had to think of something else to get her to turn around and face him.

"_Kim_." He cooed, as he poked the back of her shoulder.

She shuffled tiredly.

"_Kim_." He tried again.

Nothing.

"_Kim_!" The boy shouted, his vocal cords lightly shook.

Nothing.

"_KIM_!"

The girl shook into awakening, the creases between her eyebrows evident. Swirls of brown irritability stating at him, while her hair fizzled in the air messily. He had a minute to do some explaining. He knew that already, she was visibly angry and it took no second guessing. Her stance had moved off the bed onto a sitting position that possibly scared Jerry slightly. She was an ape in disguise.

"I'm—_uh_—making blueberry pancakes." He quickly covered, while his hands were high up in surrender. The augmentation of his own eyes increased dramatically.

She looked at him for a moment, anger and all. Her brown eyes still lost in her surroundings, holding a hardened gaze at the man before her. The light in the room now, the man sitting across from her, the words he's just told her falling out of his lips, and the location she is now in was all processing in her mind. Once she unlocked her arms from the hold against her chest, she moved off of the bed quietly towards the door. Pale, white walls reflected against the blue shirt and black sweatpants she had on. Her feet padded softly on the ground around the room, before she turned to mutter him softly, with the terrible bed head of an ape. "I'm still angry. _Humph_."

Jerry just laughed.


	4. Cooking

**AN: **

I tried to finish it yesterday, but today seemed to ring a better deadline for my procrastination.

Anyway, I have one prompt from this and then I have no more prompts. Send some in and I will try to get to them. They could be anything from dancing to crying, I don't know. I'm up for anything you guys want me to write. Requests are my story guides, so send them in.

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**Review Responses:**

**krstic - Thank you! I just very much dislike when authors hold themselves on pedestals and don't realize how much of a giant part readers play in their stories. You, all the others, and those who even glance at my stories are very important to me. Therefore, thank you!**

**Shakeema28 - Thank you! It's very important for the characters to stay intact, and funny, as simple as it is, is very hard to mold into the story. I try my best to get that in there, so thank you.**

**Maddyliza1234 - Thank you! I love humor, especially JerryKim kind, so I always try my hardest to incorporate that in every story I write. Anyway, in answer to your question: yes, they are living together in the future. However, I haven't settled if they're married yet. I don't know if I want to.**

**Allison Diamond - You don't know how helpful you are, so thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I tried my best to refrain from all of the usual errors that I do in my stories, and following your corrections. Criticism, although this isn't necessarily it, is always welcomed, especially from you. If you see anything else wrong here, please let me know. Thank you.**

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**I. cooking**

"I'm trying, _alright_!?"

The vociferous statement hits Jerry's ears from all across the hallway. His own sigh matching hers, as he takes into consideration the many times she's said that before disaster.

He knows and understands that she's not good at everything—no one is. However, she doesn't have to be so _incompetent_ at it. It's like she purposely burns a whole chicken, or their kitchen, just to prove a ridiculous point about how terrible she is, nevertheless Jerry never gives up. It's not his belief that someone isn't good at cooking. Everyone _can_ be good at it, with a little practice, learning, and precision. His own little sister, who's _thirteen_ years old, knows how to make rice—thanks to Jerry—and can make a mean _arroz__ con __pollo_. Therefore, it is _kind of_ a fact that anyone can be good at cooking. Kim doesn't see eye to eye with him about it, because she claims that the route to all of these problems is that she's just incapable, but you _can_ be good at cooking. She c_an_ be good at cooking.

Kim just doesn't want to be.

"Kim," he softly says, "how many times do I need to tell you?"

His feet pad against the wood floors, as he walks towards the kitchen. Kim catches the socks on his feet, tenderness of his skin, and exhaustion in his eyes. Instantly, she feels immensely guilty and angry of her lacking skills in the kitchen, but remembers that he's the one who believes she_ can_ learn to cook. It's no surprise that she burns things.

"What?" She frowns at him, eyes weighing from the guilt.

"Don't get frustrated," he replies, with a softness even she can't retort to. Jerry has always been patient at things she could never be—cooking, repairing, _or even_ dancing. She finds it hard to get so irritable around someone with such patience; her mother believes that to be the reason that he's good for her. (_"He's delicate, Kim. He's got the hands of a lover, not a fighter. Keep him. He's good for you," she had whispered, with eyes that knew of struggles she'd never come across of.) _Kim always appreciates the small tidbits of Jerry that calm her down. It's just harder to get angry, if she's going to hate the outcome of her rampage. Moving her eyes away from his, she throws her head in slight guilt and major discouragement.

"Kim," he starts again, "practice makes perfect, patience makes precision."

She doesn't reply with anything other than a grumble. Her eyebrows squeezing, while the creases in between grow prominent. She really hates cooking, more than repairing, or perhaps, in the same amount. It's not like she wants to burn every single thing that clatters onto the stove, it just happens. She just fumbles here and there, forgetting how much time it's been, or if she even put oil, and then the whole pan burns. It's not like a hobby or anything; if she could she'd avoid it.

"_Chica_," he coaxes, like a slithering snake, "_yo creo en ti. _I believe in you."

He stares with these big eyes of monstrously genuine faith. The once swaying eyes he held disappearing into tenaciousness as he spoke. Kim finds her own determination to collapse on the couch failing. He believes in her and not only that, but he's never giving up. _How is she supposed to go around not trying, _just_ for him?_

"_Fine_," she grumbles. Her eyes roll exaggeratedly and she hates everything, but she's trying, f_or him_.

However, that hardly matters when the chicken fries into dark black coal a few minutes later. It sticks to the pan and leaves Jerry spending another fifty dollars for a new one. She puffs out in exhaustion, slightly annoyed that this is happening again, but even more because of his thick skull. She knew it was going burn, but she saw that look in his eyes and ignored it. She saw that he believed in her and cooked anyway. _Look where it got her. _The regret tugs at her chest every few seconds and she remembers that big black thing on that pan is hers. Jerry, who is still at fault for all of this, isn't even capable of burning a thing. It discourages her greatly, but she paints an empty expression onto her face. Her eyes never move from the once well chicken.

"Well," he starts again, with eyes as soft as marshmallows, "I didn't want chicken anyway."

Kim tries her best not to smile, and settles on punching him lightly on the shoulder instead.

_He's too good for her sometimes._

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**II. cooking**

_Jerry has to be the most obnoxious guy ever_. He's a great dancer, fixes anything in the world, and now an amazing cook.

Kim finds herself slightly angry at these measures.

It's not just that he can cook. He can name every single spice in their counter, along with their specific tastes. He uses every utensil for something in every meal and surprises her that it was even existent. He knows every recipe in every cookbook she's ever bought him—_yes_, she buys him cookbooks—and makes it easily without the instructions. He, without any help from anyone, can make foods from all over the world in their kitchen with things from their kitchen. Therefore, it's not just that he can cook. It's that he's a_ freaking_ cook legend.

She hates him. He makes amazing things and easily makes her melt with just that. It's not fair.

When he cooks, it's like waiting for a video to load for over an hour. She sits at the edge of the couch, socks slipping off her toes, and hands fiddling anxiously. Her nose swarms with smells of spices that mix with impeccable harmony. Her skin slips into the warmth of the evaporation deriving from the stove. She's soundless, mentally grumbling at the time length it's taken him. Not a single thought rolls in her head that has nothing to do with his food, and she gets angry at just this notion. _Is it almost cooked? I wonder what it is. Is there going to be chicken? I really want chicken. Is it with ginger? God, he makes amazing ginger recipes. If it isn't with ginger I'm going to freak. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll eat it anyway. _At some point, she begins to realize how insanely obsessed and crazy she sounds, but even that doesn't stop the fascination.

She _really_ hates him.

Once the food is finished and the plates are placed onto the table, she runs like a starving child. Jerry smiles smugly, but surprisingly, because he knows that his food is her favorite thing.

The food is always delicious, _didn't she tell you that_? Gold chicken covered in a thick, gooey brown topping, sided with sliced potatoes that are excellently roasted. She eats moderately, never too quickly, just to savor the delight. It's something she won't be able to taste until he does it again, which rarely happens. He usually uses the same spices, or poultry, or grain, but a recipe is hardly repeated. It's a lip-licking, enticing thing that leaves Kim to grumble finally at the disappearance of it all once she's finished. She wishes she could replay the instant she placed the food into her mouth over and over again, but then that would give him the satisfaction of it all. She really hates letting him know it was delicious. H_ates_ it she tells you.

"Wow, Kim."

Her head lifts from the plate, meekly and embarrassed. Jerry returns a smile, slightly self-satisfied.

"It was okay," she replies, never giving in completely. She would tell him about all the wonders of his meal, but then she remembers that it's not like he isn't aware. Her mother already wants him to cook the next dinner with her dad and her, which should reveal all wonders of his talent in just the gesture.

"Really?" The boy eyes at her plate, hinting at the lie.

"Okay! It was amazing," she lifts from her chair, stomping her feet, "so don't—_don't_ look at me like that! It's not my fault you're cooking is so dang delicious."

"I mean it was all in the butter—"

"Oh, shut up," she says, before taking strides towards the hallway. Her steps louder than the last and resounding, they collide against the wood floors. He makes no motion to going after her, because there are dishes to clean and a table to unfix. However, he always remembers that she's angry and makes it up to her in the bedroom—_not like that_, _well, not _always—later on. He knows that she finds admitting things hard, especially when it might tarnish or offend her reputation as a hard-to-impress person. He just finds it fun to see all of that crumble when he makes a decent meal. It's like she's the girl that absolutely doesn't fall within the standards of anyone, but his.

_Just that—his ability to impress her every time—makes him smile crookedly._


	5. Singing

**AN:**

I don't know what to say about this chapter. I'm sort of disappointed with it—though I don't like saying that—because it's just so so dry, lazy, and concise. I don't know what it is, but this is my least favorite chapter. I don't hate it, but I'm just not proud. Every writer gets that feeling once in a while, no?

Anyway, sorry for taking such a long time to update. This literally took me a month and I don't know why. I'm just an empty skull sometimes.

* * *

**I. singing**

Kim knows that Jerry is effortlessly graceful when it comes to dancing. His hands, feet, hips, legs, and toes move, unintentionally, in precision to the wishes of the rhythm. Therefore, it's obvious that dancing is his gift.

However, singing is _no_t.

She hears him in the shower, or while he's cooking, or even doing his research essays. Whether it's Michael Jackson, Pharrell, or Justin Timberlake, there's not a note in his cracking vocals that don't strike her ears violently. He just can't sing. She'd like to pretend—however hard it is—that he sings well, but she'd be lying and she'd also be laughing herself to death. He's a terrible singer, no matter where he does it—even in the shower, while the water collides harshly against the shower floor. The shrill, high pitch tempo of his vocals is painful and loud, much like nails on a school chalkboard. Kim usually clenches her teeth when she hears him sing.

"_The way you making me feel!"_

Currently, he's showering, or he has been showering for twenty minutes. There's faint music in the background, beneath the echoes of his voice and the water tapping against his skin. She bets he's taking all the hot water, like he always does, and fogging up the bathroom just like she hates it—there's nothing more_ inviting_ than a hot, humid bathroom. She'd be more vocal about her protests and preferences, but she has her own set of showering habits that she bets he hates. However, its better she doesn't go into details, because it's not like it _matters_ anyway. He's still going to sing and shower for an hour and a half until his fingers remind him of old raisins and large prunes from a vineyard.

She's just going to have to endure the singing, like she always does.

"_You knock me off of my feet—Oh! My feet! Girl, they're swag yo!"_

And his own set of lyrics that he adds to the song, which would anger Michael Jackson. There's nothing Jerry likes more than improvising, whether it's dancing, cooking, or singing, anything. He's always got to add his own vibe to most of his songs and it takes her ten seconds to start internally crying when he does.

"_Come on be my girl—chica, you're on fire!"_

Mind you, Kim is nearly four rooms away from the bathroom, yet she hears it so clearly that her hands clamping around her ears do nothing. She could be at the next door neighbor's house and her head would still be drilling with his awful vocals. Jack was always a terrible singer, similar to Jerry, but at least his voice was avoidable and unclear. Jerry's is distinctive enough to be heard two blocks down. She's surprised no one has called the police or something, with the sound of his shrill high notes running through the halls.

Quickly, Kim swings her legs, luminous and long beneath the purple shorts, off the bed and onto the floor. Her socks creaking softly against the wood floors, as she trots to the brown desk in search of a white pair of earphones. There's a lot of shuffling and desperation, before she finds the two white buds beneath the sheets of paper.

However, her erratic behavior eases, once she feels them between her fingers. _Death was so close to her _and _Jerry's door._

* * *

**II. singing**

Jerry loves it when Kim sings.

There are a lot of things she's not good at, despite how she makes it seem that she's amazing at everything, and he tries to cherish what she's well at. Whether it's her fast, effective, and brilliant karate or poised and precisely sharpened gymnastics, he praises her consistently. He knows that she takes pride in the things that she's good at, whatever they are. However, when anyone really thinks about it or takes the time to ponder about it, there aren't many. There aren't a lot of skills that she's capable of. Even if he doesn't notice most of them, because he mostly focuses on the ferocity of the things she can do, he knows that it bothers her. He knows that she sometimes picks at them like a scab and feels discouraged. He knows that she feels ridiculous because she can't cook, like apparently all girls are supposed to. He knows. He knows. _He knows._

However, he loves them all the same—her terrible cooking and impatience with appliances. He loves it all the same.

"_And if you would like to call my baby," _suddenly she softly sings, writing across the sheet of paper, "_just go ahead now."_

Don't get him wrong though, Jerry _could_ talk about how her amazing her voice is compared to everything else. He's got words, which he's searched in the dictionary to describe her majestic singing, piling in his head as he peers at her with lazy eyes. However, he won't say them, _not_ vocally.

"_And if you would like to talk for hours," _the falsetto swings warmly, "_just go ahead now."_

He whips his head at her, with slightly open eyes. They flash lethargically through wonder and interest, but she doesn't notice them through her peripheral vision. He's trying his best to not fall asleep, not on top of her, but it's hard as his head lies amongst the soft, plush, brown armrest. He shuffles his legs around her thigh and tries to shake himself awake, but his eyelids shut softly at the whisper of her delicately high voice. He loves it when she sings.

It's most definitely not his favorite thing—compared to the look of anger she gets while cooking or repairing—though it's getting close to it, but he really loves it. She has this intensity when she does it, unlike any other. Unlike the fierce, agility of karate or the precision, poise of her gymnastics, singing requires something else when she does it. Maybe it's the honesty, innocence, or softness, or the vulnerability that she shows when the verses roll of her tongue like a book she knows all too well. He doesn't really know, but he loves it.

He loves her.


	6. Photographing

**AN: **

I seriously need to organize my time. I haven't posted one of these in over three weeks, _but _I should have one by Sunday next week. If I don't post one by next week, then you all have the right to get angry and throw a fanfiction mob, okay?

Anyway, send some requests! My requests are empty right now and I have no idea what to write for the next one.

Enjoy!

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**Review Responses**

**krstic - Thank you! I promise I'm actually back this time! And, actually, Jerry and Kim hadn't done anything, but I might consider it for future chapters. ; )**

**Allison Diamond - It's okay, the fact that you're reading is great in itself. Also, I'm literally late by like three weeks, so I have no right to say anything anyway. Thank you for all the positive feedback! And thank you for that very generous writer to writer advice!**

* * *

**I. photographing**

Kim is fascinated with taking pictures.

Jerry can go on and on about her singing, karate, gymnastics, and strange avocation for reading, but photography is her fascination.

He remembers when they went on their first trip together, unaccompanied to China—it was almost three years back. She was supposedly the one responsible for the pictures and videos, while Jerry was responsible for everything else. It wasn't by choice, of course, but who is he to argue with the ferocious blonde? Anyway, through all the full city streets and hotel lobbies, her attention was entranced in the tiny silver device, while his hands juggled with shopping bags colorfully effaced. She had managed to take _over __**two**__ hundred_ pictures in just a week, which hadn't even covered the four weeks they were supposed to stay there. In all of the lazy morning conversations and midnight drawls, Kim had taken over_ fifty_ pictures of just Jerry—yeah, _fifty_. Whether he had closed eyes, a dopey morning smile, or a toothbrush stuck in his mouth, the camera had them all.

He found it irritating at first, extremely. She had left hardly any space on the camera and his face was everywhere. However, that feeling evaporated after a while. The image of his funny little face on her background picture and her adoring grin that would wash up just looking at it made him feel all warm. Or the numerous pictures of skyscrapers and city buses in her phone. Jerry, admittedly, found it cute after a while.

Therefore, _now _three years later, he lets her take pictures whenever she feels like it. He lets her do anything that makes her happy and doesn't hurt her in any way or form, because why not? She's his girl and Jerry's anything but controlling when it comes to women. Girls don't like pushy guys and they like a little freedom—but don't get him wrong, Kim likes it when he gets jealous more than she lets on. She is mostly the jealous type anyway.

"Ah!" He hears across the restaurant table, beneath the lamp light that glows gently on the two. "I got a hundred likes on my _Instagram_ picture! Do you know what that means?"

Kim is shaking; her red colored nails are trembling with the phone between their limbs. She smiles with the black eyeliner surrounding her eyes and the tint of pink glossing her lips, but she shakes even as she forces to contain herself. Jerry thinks she looks all too cute and answers interestedly, "what picture? The one with the sun in the background? Or the black and white city skyline?"

"Black and white city skyline," she dismissively replies, wiggling her phone through the air.

Jerry smiles and picks a fry from the large white plate in the middle of the table. His large grey sweater covered arms reaching over to the side; Kim notices the gesture. She immediately shifts in her seat and grabs him suddenly still in her hands. His arms are clutched in her grasp, when he lifts his head and asks surprised, "_que __paso__?_ You okay?"

"Yeah," she mumbles, before a tiny _click_! emits from her cellphone in her other hand.

"Y'know, if you wanted a picture, you could have just asked," he retorts, sliding his hand out of her grasp. Allowing him to insert the fry into his mouth, his smile increases. He might as well play with her quick irritability and jealousy. It's kind of fun to see her get mad or see her eyebrows moving along with her typically crossed arms. "I don't mind the attention, especially the female Instagram attention. Let me know if I get love in the comments, 'kay, _chica_?"

"Yeah, okay, _sure_, Jerry," Kim answers almost knowingly, "I'll let you know, "_chico_.""

Immediately, he laughs. Her pronunciation was a little off, but he hardly expected her to say it all. He bets she probably didn't expect it either. The light purse of her lips demonstrates the own sheer embarrassment and regret coloring her face. "Eres una hermosura, _de __verdad_," he stifles out in short barks of laughter.

"I don't even get what that means! _Stop speaking in Spanish, Jerry_!"

* * *

**II. photographing**

Jerry doesn't really take photos, even if he enjoys them in moderation.

However, he does have his moments—when he's been drinking too much soda or tired beyond relief—that he purges in silly photography habits.

"Kim," he calls, "come take a selfie with me! I'm feeling delirious."

The blonde sits in the bathroom with her toothbrush settling in her mouth. She's got little foam at the edges of her lips and her hair strands falling from the bun above her head. Her long grey sweater, which actually belongs to Jerry, fits on her nicely, while she stares at herself, vexed, in the mirror. The green skin paste still hasn't dried. He's been yelping and yelling at her for the past twenty minutes of her bathroom lifespan to get inside the bed with him—which is actually incredibly tempting, but she wouldn't ever say that—however, she needs to wait for the skin mask fully before she inserts herself into bed.

"Kim," he calls again.

She rolls her eyes, continuing to scrub her teeth with the blue toothbrush. Usually, she excites in being able to partake in his photography purges, but she's busy right now and she just needs a few more minutes.

"Kim!"

Spitting out the toothpaste, she tries to sound out his yelling, but she still hears the faint voice in the background.

"Kim!"

"KIM!"

"_KIM CRAWFORD! I'M BORED! VEN AQUI!"_

_There he goes with the Spanish again_, she thinks. Honestly, she wishes she understood the language a little more; it would make it easy to comprehend what he's asking for. There are times where she's left in a haze, because she just doesn't understand anything he's said. And she's _kind of_ jealous about that. However, she'd obviously never tell him that, since Jerry's tried teaching her before and it didn't go so well. It was kind of confusing with all of the masculine and feminine grammar things going on; she'd never be able to understand.

Suddenly, harshly, before her eyes, she sees a bright flash and hears distant laughing. _He took a picture, didn't he?_

Her fists clench. "JERRY!"

"I told you I was feeling delirious," he shouts through the hall, "now I'm posting it on Instagram."

"_JERRY MARTINEZ! DON'T YOU DARE DO ANYTHING OR I WILL—!_"

"It's posted." He chuckles.

"_THAT'S IT_!"

She really hates him, which is all the same to love if you think about it.


	7. Crying

**AN: **

Look! I got this posted when I said I would! Yay! Anyway, this one is a little bad, according to me, but I tried my best. Always feel comfortable to send constructive criticism.

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**Review Responses:**

**optimistic girl94 - Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for all the sweet and extremely kind reviews! You're so nice to review every single chapter and if you haven't noticed, this one is made after one of the things you requested - the rest is coming, by the way! But, yes, you're so extremely generous for reviewing every single chapter and just being so encouraging throughout, very kind of you. You definitely deserve a million cyber hugs if I could give them to you.**

**Allison Diamond - Thank you for the kind review! You're so sweet. I always try my best to make things funny when they need to be, which is why this chapter might come off slightly more serious and sensitive than the rest, unlike how it usually is. Thank you, though!**

**aystar28 - Thank you! ; - ) You're very kind and sweet, and y**our willingness to review is so generous**! All of your requests are coming by the way. **

* * *

**I. crying**

Kim knows that Jerry's extremely overly sensitive. She's seen him cry for ridiculous things, and movies that he's seen far too often—Marley &amp; Me and Where the Wild Things Are. It's not even rare to see a tear slip from his eye when he earns himself a large gash on his leg or arm. He's as delicate as a feather.

However, it almost seems people forget the gravity of some things when it comes to Jerry. They seem to skip over certain aspects and immediately flesh him out to be what they think he is, but he's not overly sensitive about _everything_. There are some serious things, insecurities maybe, to which he cries about when the pressure becomes too much. Perhaps, it's the things he doesn't say or the things he pretends don't really bother him as much as they do, but Jerry is extremely discreet. He is extremely sensitive, but extremely discreet, and he hides the things that really bother him, whether they take their toll on him or not. Because, despite how he takes no shame on being sensitive, sometimes he just finds that it's just easier to keep things to himself.

Kim should know. She used to think he was openly honest about himself—not anymore.

"Jerry?" She peers through the bedroom doorframe, her blonde strands falling towards the wooden floor. She was a little suspicious about the silence hovering in the apartment for the past hour and something didn't sit right in her stomach, so she decided to come and check on him.

He's pacing the room in some white socks and an oversized blue sweater that falls off his shoulders, while the phone between his hand and ear absorbs his attention. She can hear small bits of the conversation and the shouts echoing through the frequency—a scolding?—but the majority is being spoken in Spanish and she immediately relents into trying to decipher the argument. He obviously doesn't want her involved, since he is speaking his native language and doing so effortlessly, and she wouldn't want to budge. She knows how annoying it is for someone else to nudge into her business, and it's been done before. It's just that she just can't seem to let go of that feeling that something's wrong, with him and whoever's on the phone.

"_Bueno pues," _he exasperatedly sighs, "_entonces no sé porque estamos peleando_. I mean, I'm doing my best, Ma."

Kim hears the faint voice in the cellphone conversation, and the heavy anger in the person's cords. Immediately, she feels uneasy and twirls on her purple sock covered feet towards the hallway. She shouldn't be listening, but she is, and she's slightly concerned. Jerry doesn't sound too good.

"_Estoy tratando! Siempre estoy tratando_!" He runs his hand through his hair achingly. "I mean, what else am I supposed to do?—Ma…_Ma_? You there?"

He sighs and removes his cellphone from his ear, throwing it against the puffy white sheets amongst the bed. His stance, once he turns around, is slightly relieved, but the tension is still evident in his shoulders. He's not over the conversation.

"You okay?" She slowly steps into the small bedroom, each step cautious. Her hands fiddling as she goes.

"Yeah," he croaks lightly, sniffling a little, "I'm fine. I'm just a little tired."

Kim takes a look at him. She notices his shrunken shoulders and shaking palms; along with the way his head is drooping to avoid her eyes. His hair shielding the expression that's probably evident across his face; her concern grows. She's not comfortable with this. He looks more than just tired, and the trembling hands are to show of that. He's hiding something and she wishes he'd just tell her, because she doesn't like this and she doesn't like the feelings he's holding within himself and she just wishes he would open up to her. She just wishes he would at least confide in her, like she would to him…_like_ she would always do to him. They're partners, best friends, for something, right?

"Jerry," she softly says, tangling her arms around his neck, "you know you can tell me anything. What's wrong? What did your mom say?"

"Nothing," he mumbles, wiping at his eyes.

Kim notices the red circles beneath his irises and his wet palms glistening below his eyes—he's crying. _He's actually crying_. The conversation had left him so angry, that he was_ actually_ crying. There have only been a few instances that this has happened and Kim, quickly, feels her heart clench violently inside of her chest. She'd do anything just to see him happy again. _Anything._

"Jer," she says again, as soft as demanding can be, "what did your mom say?"

"Just some irrational stuff about me and the fact that I dropped out and—look, Kim, it doesn't matter," he replies, with a lazy shrug and wet eyes. His hair falling into his face ever so often, as he feebly looks at her.

"Irrational? Jerry, you're—just don't listen to her, okay?" Kim delicately moves the strands away from his face, softly brushing his nose and cheeks. Her gesture provokes him to lift his head to meet her eyes, as she does so. "You're a really great guy with amazing capabilities. And, just because you're not good at school and what your mom wants you to be, doesn't mean you aren't as amazing as you think you are. Because, you just—you just are, Jerry. You're just really great and I don't know how to explain why, because there are countless reasons each day, but nothing can take that away from you, nothing, and no one, not even your mom."

Jerry faintly smiles at this—at her words—and his brown eyes swirl with something alike feeling better, something alike relief. "Amazing capabilities, huh?"

"Yeah." She kisses him softly, dragging his lips into a hazy encounter. "Amazing."

The movement is slow and hazy, but he presses into her mouth with ardent affection and fervor. It's almost as if he gives her all the appreciation he can ever give her, into the blurry mess of the kisses he leaves her across her forehead, her nose, lips, and temple. Kim laughs softly in the midst of it all.

"I love you," he mumbles against her lips, tangling his fingers through her hair.

"I love you too," she replies, almost like the lyrics of a song that she can't get enough of.

* * *

**II. crying**

Jerry knows a lot of things about Kim.

He's been there for her through almost all of the difficult years that have tackled her. During high school, when she dealt with the consequences of being a girl in a dojo of boys, and the sexist generalizations of almost everyone—including him, for a tiny while. Or during her gap year, when she realized she really wanted to go far in her karate studies and dealt with the consequences of sexist parents and sexist teachers. Or even during college, when almost everything and anything was hurling her into pressure. She was on the receiving end of expectations and generalizations, which never helped to bring her any closer to her goal—to just be herself.

He remembers when she went out with Jack for a small while, back in high school. She was a little different then, but all the same. Her stubbornness was irritating and her competitive vices could never leave her alone—and she's still just like that—but something changed as time went on. She and Jack grew distant from each other—after years of going after each other all the time—and Kim saw clearer, he guesses. She sort of became her own person, learned some stuff about herself, and she…_she_ grew up.

Now, she has to deal with the consequences, just like him, of growing up. And that's problematic, because that's all she's ever done—deal with consequences.

He hears her sniffling and sobbing sometimes, through the night, underneath the sheets with quiet pleas. She's wiping at her eyes and rubbing at her cheeks, trying to be as silent as she can to avoid waking him up, but she does anyway.

"_Kim, Ki_m, Kim," he tries, grabbing her in his arms, "_chica_, relax, you're doing fine. You're good, you're fine." He presses his lips against her shaking shoulders.

"I'm tired, I'm so, so tired." Her voice shakes and quivers, while she clamps her hands around the sheets. "I just wish I could breathe, but I can't. It gets so hard—"

"You can, okay? You can breathe with me. You can let me deal with it, because that's what I'm supposed to do." He hooks his leg with hers, while gently colliding both of their knees together. "And, if you want me to carry you, then I'll do that, Kim. But don't do it alone, okay? Breathe with me," Jerry says. His warm hands finding Kim's throughout the sea of white sheets.

"Okay," he hears quietly against him, humming beside his shoulder like a mantra, "_okay_, okay."

And, it's all he needs to know to remember that she's trying and all he has to do is keep her going. All he has to do is be there for her when no one is and when no one can be. She'll fall every now and then, and it'll be hard, but he'll be there to pick her up when she can't do it alone. Even if, he has to stay up all night just to make sure she's okay, just to make sure that she's breathing. Jerry won't mind nor forsake it, ever—and he'll make sure she remembers that.

"You know that I love you, right?" He tells her, before she slips into slumber.

"Yeah." Her breath hits his shoulders. "I love you too."

And that's enough.


	8. Hiding

**AN:**

Look! It's up! Well, technically, on Monday, but I tried. I tried.

Anyway, I made an 8tracks KimJerry mix or playlist if you will: 8tracks dot com/sperotio/the-middle (the middle), so check it out?

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**Review Responses: **

**krstic - Thank you! You're so kind and generous! I wish more people would write KimJerry fics as well. They have so much potential.**

**Allison Diamond - Thank you! Your help is much appreciated! I tried my best to avoid errors, but sometimes it just happens. Anyway, thank you for the generous help!**

**optimistic girl94 - Thank you for the sweet and generous review! You're so kind and your comments are much appreciated. Also, I am working on a multi-chaptered fic, I've been outlining it for weeks and I'm trying to get onto the first chapter...but I am so quick to procrastinate.**

**Maddyliza1234 &amp; Shakeema28 - Thank you! You're both extremely kind and your feedback is much appreciated. Also, cyber hugs to both of you!**

* * *

**I. hiding**

"_I'm not hiding anything_! I wouldn't ever lie to you!"

Jerry simmers with anger.

_He's not a fool. He's not slow._ He doesn't understand why Kim is trying to hide things from him, but it irritates him anyway. They're supposed to confide in each other and bring healthy communication—like Kim always tells him whenever he finishes her juice—and it's like she hardly does so on her end. She never wants to tell him anything, and keeps the things she cries about in the middle of the night to herself. If it weren't for the incessant nudging on his part, she wouldn't ever tell him about anything. He'd be wallowing in lies and they'd be hanging faintly off a ledge, because she decides that it's healthier to hide things from him. Even if he's always telling her everything she needs to know when it's needed, and he never fails to do so, the unbalance of this relationship drives him crazy.

"_Pero_, Kim, stop lying. Just tell me the truth!" he shouts exasperatedly, flailing his arms. "You're flashing your eyes at me like you're hiding something."

They're in the middle of the hallway, and Kim's facing him agitatedly. She holds deep creases between her eyebrows, arms folded against her chest. Her attire is seemingly shimmering—the glittery loose shirt, white tight pants, and silver heels—despite the darkness in the midst of the wooden hallway. Jerry knows that she's very close to snapping at him, she always is, but it doesn't stop the persistence and determination. It doesn't stop the feeling in his chest that rings when he stares at the brown irises across from him. He knows that she's hiding something, he knows that she's lying to him, and it has nothing to do with the way that she guilty slumps her shoulders across the hallway or the way she fiddles with her hands. He feels it in his bones.

"I'm not flashing anything, Jer," she acidly retorts, "you're just mad, because I was with Jack. Because I was with someone who's—who means a lot to me. You're just being a jealous idiot."

Immediately, Jerry visibly tenses. Kim doesn't know if she's watching too closely or searching too deeply, but she watches. She watches his hands tighten around his waist and the veins in his arm protrude. _Something ticks_. "You know what? Forget it."

"Jer—"

"No, you're right, Kim," he subdues slowly, retreating from the hallway, "I'm just being a jealous idiot."

He doesn't even know why he tries. She clearly doesn't understand anything and her ignorance stretches so far that Jerry finds he's tired of pushing. She can do whatever she wants and she can hold onto whatever she's hiding. It's already established that she won't tell him anything. And, that whatever courtship they have, whatever relationship he thinks they have, she doesn't take seriously. She thinks he's a jealous idiot anyway, so why does he try to balance their "healthy communication"? They don't have one…_not anymore_.

"Jerry," Kim softly cracks, "Jerry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Then, what did you mean, Kim? Huh?" He turns one last time, frustrated, before the doorframe. "What did you mean?"

She doesn't answer. Jerry knew she wouldn't.

"Exactly."

* * *

**II. hiding**

Kim's got to be honest. Jerry's extremely good at lying.

He can lie to her about anything, whether it's stuff she asks him about or things he's lying about. He knows how to effectively create a story about anything and make her believe that what he's saying is true. She remembers when he kept visiting his grandmother, for example, and she had no idea where he was every weekend_—_she thought he was cheating on her. However, it turned out to be that he was embarrassed of visiting his grandmother every weekend, because he seemed to actually enjoy her company. It wasn't something to lie about, because it hardly seemed funny or embarrassing in Kim's eyes, but he hadn't told her about it simply because he, himself, only visited his grandmother to vent about Kim—good or bad. That's why he didn't want to tell her.

She laughed a little, because it was hardly embarrassing that his grandmother gave good advice, but mostly because she hadn't realized how much she had overreacted.

Jerry's loyal, as loyal as any human being can be on daily basis. Every day he leaves food for her, when he's gone to work and she comes back from the office with aching feet. He does the laundry, whenever she tells him to, without having to be told twice, and cleans the apartment, when she can't. It's kind of common for him to wash the dishes, when she tells him early in the morning before she leaves, but usually she washes the dishes to alleviate the responsibilities around the house. Therefore, his loyalty strikes her lucky sometimes. None of her other boyfriends—Jack, even, who fought frequently with her, because of this—listen to her once and do the order as said, quickly, and excellently.

She loves that about him. He listens to her and he's got nothing scary hiding.

"So, what did you do today?" Kim stretches her foot against his thigh, sliding slightly across the leather couch.

"Well, I fixed Donna Tobin's car," he nonchalantly says, scratching the back of his head. His eyes never leave the television set and he drifts his attention from Kim almost immediately. If it weren't for the toe that picks at his thigh sharply, he would have disappeared from the conversation altogether.

"Donna Tobin?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Jerry senses the tension within the air, with the toe digging into his thigh and the breath that stopped in her throat. However, he's being honest and he doesn't understand why she's worried if nothing happened—and she's married anyway. There's nothing to worry about, if something happened, if anything happened, he would have told her as quickly as it did. Kim's anger, which is evident in the silence that's hovering around them, is slightly ridiculous.

"She's married, Kim," he tells her, whipping his face from the television towards the blonde across him. She seems relieved.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Jerry laughs, lifting himself lazily from his spot on the couch towards the girl on the other side. His legs and arms collide against the leather, while he squeezes his way behind her, but his movement is extremely quick. Kim doesn't have time to realize what he's doing, nor what he's intending. The arms that move over the slope of her waist, and the knees that fall against the back of hers, are too swift and quiet as they fall against the leather sofa. The surprise is clearly welcomed, because she curls her toes from the warm feeling settling into her stomach, but she doesn't say anything. She simply relaxes into his arms. Or the words, "I love you," slipping into her ear, before they both fall, slowly, to sleep.


	9. Flying

**AN:**

So, I didn't upload last week. But, hey! I still have a mini surprise in store for this chapter. It might not be huge or anything, but it's certainly some sort of a surprise. You'll be thrilled to see it.

Also, check out my KimJerry playlist. It'll be posted on my profile, since FanFiction doesn't allow links..._CAUSE IT'S TOTALLY UNCOOL._

_Anyway, _dismiss that, and have fun!

* * *

**Review Responses**

**Allison Diamond - Thank you! You're always so kind and loyal - I saw your review for YouTube - and I just marvel at it. You never miss to review any of my stories, and I hope you don't think that I don't notice or that I roll it off, because I don't. I literally squeal when you review, on anything, because you literally mean a lot to me as a writer and as a FanFiction neighbor, you know? I don't mean to be dramatic, but you're just so awesome. (By the way, is your name Allison or...?)**

**optimistic girl94 - Thank you! Thank you! I am just as excited as you about the multi-chapter thing. I've never done one for this couple and I know it'll be a blast. Thank you for being so supportive and taking your time to write reviews as long as these, it literally means a lot. I squeal like a little girl when I see them, haha. Anyway, millions of cyber hugs to you, sweetie!**

**Maddyliza1234 - Thank you! You're so sweet! Always feel welcomed to leave a request, I'm never too full for any of them! **

* * *

**I. flying**

Jerry is the most stressful person when flying—or in the midst of flying. He never leaves Kim alone.

"Kim," he pesters, "did you remember to pack the passports?"

They haven't even left their apartment yet, despite the sudden concerns. Both still stand beside the door with two large blue luggages and a tiny black laptop handbag hanging from one of Jerry's shoulders. Their keys hanging from his fingers, as he stares questioningly at Kim. She'd rather not respond, because she can't stand his consistent worrying and bombarding questions, but she still returns a look. His now shaggy hair, which she asked for him to cut a while ago—even if she secretly doesn't mind, falling across his face, she purses her lips annoyed. He's about as stressed as her mother during the holidays and it's irritating. He even put together his outfit last night, a denim vest resting above a blue hoodie and a pair of acid washed shorts, persisting with the idea that it could cause them to fall slightly off schedule. She had no idea that someone as slack as Jerry would be this stressful during flying.

"Bueno?" he continues, tapping his brown timberlands against the wooden floors, "los empacasteis?" _Well, did you pack them?_

She pushes her lips to the side, vexed. The baby blue colored nails tapping at her forearm, above the crossed arms she holds at his mistrust. _He knows _that_ she knows_ that he's anxiously stressed whenever it comes to schedules, so why wouldn't she take the precautions he's always telling her about? Her feet tap along with his. "Yes, Jerry," she says like a sigh, breathing out the fumes circling through her head.

"And the tickets?"

"Yes, Jerry," she says once again, increasing the speed of her tapping foot. The black wedges above her jeans loud, especially amongst wooden floors, so Jerry can't avoid, or dismiss, the irritation he's hearing. It's painted all over her face. He knows she's angry, but he has to take his precautions. _Tiene __que __tomar __sus __precauciones__._ Even if he's slightly distracted with the way that her legs fit so perfectly into those blue jeans, below that gray sweater—_God_, she was gorgeous, a beauty—travelling is something he takes seriously.

"And the keys?" He looks at her once more, actually searching for her response, with expectant eyes. She tries her hardest not to laugh.

"Seriously, Jer?"

"What?" He obliviously continues, not a single peek of knowledge in his eyes. She wishes she could tape this and show it to him every single time he calls her forgetful, because this is seriously too hilarious to not have on hand. Jerry's eyebrows furrow further down, as she delays in her response. The brief silence is there for time—time she's giving him to see if he'll ever find out. However, she sees his head shake and his other hand flinches, and she knows he's never going to realize that they're in his grasp…_literally_. "Que?"

"They're in your hand." She points, losing her patience.

"_Oh_."

* * *

**II. flying**

"Jerry, I'm hungry. Go get me something."

He's been focused in his iPhone screen for over ten minutes, when Kim starts up, and the silence between them deteriorates. They're sitting in a column of black chairs, very close to the large window that reveals airplanes landing and airplanes going, next to their gate—B21. Jerry's as silent as a sleeping dog, and Kim's much more like a snake, but they're both enjoying the silence before the airplane arrives. They know that once they get on that plane, there will be enough chatter to fill their ears throughout the entire travel. Therefore, with his blue hoodie shrouding his eyes and his ears filled with two ear buds, Jerry makes no move to disturb his peace. Kim, on the other hand, loves to disturb her own peace…and _his._

"Jerry," she starts again, poking at his shoulder softly.

He knows that she's trying to talk to him, he can hear her voice through the music, but he really doesn't feel like doing anything right now. The video he's been watching, which is extremely captivating, is very close to ending and he just needs a little more time, one minute and twenty-four seconds to be precise, until he can attend to her needs with no problem—because surprisingly, he has no problem following her demands, but in this case…it's the video. And with the blue nails digging into his shoulder blade, he knows he won't make it, so he removes the white buds from his ears. "Yes, Kim?"

"I'm hungry," she suddenly whispers, "go get me a donut from the Dunkin' Donuts down there."

Jerry turns his head to the left and catches the elderly woman falling asleep, suddenly understanding her whispering. However, he remembers what's she asking for—donuts—and it does wonders to reel back in the numerous times she's had to throw up on the plane, because of her air sickness. He knows what's better for her. "No," he sort of shout-whispers, which he doesn't get, but, "you get air sick, Kim."

"So?" Her eyebrow rises.

"_So_, I don't know if you remember the last time, but," he leans forward, "you almost vomited all over the chair. And it didn't smell good, chica."

"Yeah, but I'm hungry," she whines, her eyebrows furrowing much like his always do. He knows that she's hungry and he can see the hunger gnawing at her mood, but he had told her to eat at home. He always tells her to eat at home, before every single trip—the one to China, the one to Bahamas, the one to Melbourne. But, when does she ever listen to Jerry? When does she ever not underestimate him? She gets really angry when he pesters and when he nudges, but when he's right, then she's suddenly infuriated. He doesn't get it. He doesn't get her. He doesn't get how she still doesn't think he knows her well enough, how he still warns her every single time to eat and she doesn't do just that.

"Yo te dije—I told you to eat, Kim," he scolds her, wiggling his tiny skinny finger at her. "But you never listen to me—"

"Jerry, I'm hungry, I don't care!" she suddenly tells him, smacking his arm. "Go get me a donut."

He sighs. _This is definitely going to be regurgitated later. "_Okay, _ok_ay, ya voy."

* * *

**III. ****flying**

The man had been sitting beside them the whole airplane ride and now, he wants out. They're so annoying, adorable at first, maybe even familiar, but now they're just infuriating, vexing, suffocating. He wants out. Kim, the blonde girl with the grey sweater on, has been suddenly feeling nauseous and the paper bag between her hands was inflating with air from her chest. While the boy, _Jerry,_ he thinks, has been scolding her for the last ten minutes about not doing something he apparently told her to do. It's a little unsettling for him to be in between this tension, because he deals with it at home with his wife—of what, 22 years?—but he doesn't show his real impression through his demeanor. He simply stays put and stays calm…_but most of all_, calm.

"Kim, did I not tell you you get air sick?" the boy continues again. If it weren't for the desire of rest, he would have found this funny.

"Yeah, but…I was hungry—shut up, Jerry!" She scrambles to get the bag against her lips again, breathing in and out to calm the waves in her stomach. She's got a little bit of a bedhead look going on, after shuffling comfortably around her…uh, boyfriend's shoulders, but she's still a very pretty girl. It reminds him of someone, he just can't put his finger on it, and he stares quietly at them. "You're not making this any better. I feel _so_…," she gags into her paper bag a little, "sick."

"Alright, _perdón_, I'm sorry," the boy relaxes suddenly, placing his hands on her back, "feel better?"

"A little," she lowly says, "I'm sorry too. I should have listened."

Then suddenly, the man's eyes widen and immediately, he remembers. He remembers who these kids remind him of. He remembers who these kids familiarize him of, and the answer stretches about 22 years ago—him and his wife. It almost seems way too long ago, and it is, but the picture plays clearly. He remembers when they would fight about anything and anywhere, but it wouldn't take them long—never does—to make up and apologize to each other again. They were in love after all, the most bizarre people are.

"Yeah," Jerry softly cracks, "I love you, you know that?"

"Yeah." She looks up to meet his warm eyes that radiate as much as hers. "I love you too."

"I just want to take care of you, girl," he finishes, "that's all."

There's a brief moment of silence where they stare into each other's eyes and all is good and all is peaceful, and the man remembers, misses his wife more than anything. But then—…the girl vomits.

"Awh, Kim, that smells like my Cousin Luis's feet—"

"_JERRY_!"

And, he remembers why he's on a vacation in the first place.


	10. Reuniting

**AN:**

I am so sorry it took so long to update this! I had to do a lot of work and I'm also working on other stories, so this had to be paused for a second. However, I just want you guys to know that I might halt this story for a while to get my multi-chaptered fic out. Writing two stories is a little stressful, and I never know how to manage my time well, so...yeah. This might be the last chapter for a while, until I get my multi-chaptered fic sorted out. Sorry.

Also, this chapter features ships you might not agree with, which is always okay, since we're all different. Just try not to let it bother you, since this is just one chapter, and send me some requests! And some constructive criticism!

Anyway, enjoy! You guys are in for a tiny surprise again.

* * *

**Review Responses**

**optimistic girl94 - Thank you for understanding about the slow updates and for your amazing, generous comments! You're so kind and I love how you take the time to dissect my story, it's just so thoughtful. I hope you like this one, it might have a surprise you'll enjoy. I made it to give you guys some understanding on how and why KimJack ended, because this is a separate universe from the one on TV so...yeah. **

**Allison Diamond - Firstly, I'm so happy I make you want to write KimJerry. Secondly, your reviews are always so thorough and awesome and generous. Third, I love how you had to review the first chapter, it literally made me so happy for a second. You are too sweet with your reviews, I hope you never feel inclined to review though, but anyway, I just wanted to let you know that. You're so kind and awesome, you rock.**

**Maddyliza1234 - Haha, yeah! I love writing a silly Jerry! He's too funny. Also, they would be so adorable with kids, this literally makes me want to write a quick drabble for that, because I can just imagine them perfectly. Jerry would be such a pushover, but also such a scolder, haha. You're awesome and I love your idea!**

* * *

**I. reuniting**

"Kim! _Jerry_!"

The blonde's heart stops.

She hasn't heard that voice, hasn't _seen_ that voice, that specific person who owns it and charms with it, since a year ago. Kim's attention moves from the boy across from her towards the person standing before the door, and her heart jumps inside her chest—_Eddie_!

She jumps from the red bench seated beside the window and bolts towards the door. She hasn't been_ this_ excited since returning from the Academy, and her heart thumps so harshly in her chest. The sleeves of her red leather jacket scrape against the younger boy's skin softly and she relishes in the feeling of her friend against her. _She misses him so much. _He's been in and out of Seaford since the last couple of years, and one can only be lucky to catch him in town. However, they had arranged to meet since the last three months, so Eddie booked some time in—between the shambles of business trips and wedding arrangements. Because of this, the occasional visits and dormant plans, Kim doesn't really think before bolting out of the chair and grabbing her friend between her arms. _He's not escaping this time._

"Oh my god, Eddie," she gasps, taking a step back to gaze at him from his black leather shoes to his blue dress shirt, "where have you been?"

"Uh, pretty much everywhere, but recently Texas," he jokingly retorts, his smile carving into his round cheeks; Kim can't contain the happiness she feels, "they have great milk."

"Oh, shut up." She smiles so cheerfully, her cheeks stinging. "I missed you_ so_ much."

"I missed you too, Kim."

There's a quiet moment when Kim removes her arm from his neck and takes a look at him fully, after finally releasing him from her grasp. He hasn't changed a bit—aside from the slight increase in weight and height, however, that never matters—and she smiles from this. He's still Eddie as much as she's still Kim. Despite the years that quickly flashed forward, they're still very much the same. Something about that makes her insides warm. She could stare at his fancy wear—those black pants and dress shirt and leather shoes—all day long, and know, and safely hold dear, that he's still the same boy she went to high school with. There are not a lot of friends she could say that about; hardly any of her old cheer friends or Academy friends…only the gang, only Milton, Eddie…Jerry…_Jack_.

"Hey! _Hey_! What about me?"

Kim turns and faces the Latino standing behind her, dressed in jeans and a tie-dye shirt. His pout is almost near adorable, and she steps aside to let him into the group hug. He's been as excited as her about this reunion and he wouldn't stop talking about it last night_—"hey, Kim, do you think Milton's a scientist already?" "I don't know, Jerry. I mean, it's only been three weeks." "Oh,"—_so she hardly slept in all his ridiculous chatter. However, she understands where he's coming from and it's not anywhere near bothersome for her.

"Jerry! _Kim_!"

_Milton!_

* * *

**II. reuniting**

"Holy Christmas nuts," the redhead gasps, grinning widely, "Eddie?"

The raw umber textured boy turns his head to catch Milton standing behind him, before the door. He holds a brown jacket above a plaid sweater, as always, and his hair is swiveled back with gel. Jerry smiles at the arrival of his best friends. He's never seen them in the same room, let alone the same city. Eddie is always on business trips, visiting for small days between weeks, and Milton is in his sixth year of college—he doesn't know how they do it, but hey, at least they're here. It's already hard to contact with them, with such busy schedules they have. He's lucky he doesn't have to do more than forty hours a week, because Kim is usually more than busy during the week, so he's extremely thankful for the lack of work he has to do—of course, he doesn't get paid much, but_ still_…he's lucky.

"Yeah, it's me." Eddie cracks a grin, opening his arms for a hug. Milton jumps at the chance.

Jerry just watches as his best friends reconcile, they haven't seen each other for longer than he's last seen Eddie. Literally a year has passed since they—Milton and Eddie—got to hang out with each other, and it makes him think about how ridiculous all the distance is. It's great to have them all here, and he's happy enough to have them in the same room, but when this is all done, when it becomes time for them to go…when will they see each other again? In two years? When the distance makes it easier for them to stop talking? When they grow tired of struggling to make plans? When life gets too hectic to send an email?

"Jer, you okay?" Milton suddenly faces him, his eyes full of concern. He steps forward, releasing gradually from the hug.

Eddie mirrors the same expression, but Kim sends a warm sympathetic smile his way. _She knows what he's thinking about. She always does. _"He's just disappointed, because we can't get a dog. They're not allowed in our, uh, apartment," she lies, _surprisingly well_.

"Oh." The smaller boy nods, crossing his arms. "You guys still live in an apartment?"

"Yeah," Kim cheerfully says, while a distracted Jerry nods. He doesn't really take time to notice the happiness in her voice, nor the clear pride in it, but he can catch the smile on her face. Something about it sends ridiculous butterflies in his stomach, makes him feel so weird and extraño, as he looks up at her, and takes in the twinkle sparkling in her eyes. He's so lucky. "It's a little self-deprecating and disgusting, but _yeah_, we're still together—I mean—living in an apartment."

Milton shakes his head amused. "I still can't believe you guys aren't married. It's been five years—,"

"—and I have a boat already," Eddie adds, scrunching his nose lightly, "it's awesome."

Kim and Jerry take amusement in this conversation and chuckle at the brutal honesty. They really don't know why they haven't married, Kim's kind of a coward when it comes to those things, and Jerry's just a sloth. If anything, he's surprised he's managed to remember their anniversary, or Valentine's Day, at all. It takes time and planning to do most relationship things, and he finds it hard_ just_ to wake up in the morning to brush his teeth. It's usually why she's so mad when he speaks to her on early mornings, and stomps out of bed with a ridiculous grimace on her face, but that's how he is. He's incredibly slack and lazy. Kim doesn't want to tell him either, and he knows, she wants him to take responsibility and to just do it. She's always waiting for him to do stuff. She's super independent, Jerry knows that and so does everyone, but sometimes, she finds that she likes it when he plays out the stereotypical roles—that she actively hates—and wants him to be the one to propose. He's just trying to plan out when…or _how_.

"Okay," the redhead chuckles, "so you have a boat, Jerry and Kim still aren't married, I'm going out with Grace, where's Jack?"

"You're going out with Grace?" Eddie turns surprised.

"Yeah." Kim nonchalantly nods.

"It's weird, but you get used to it," says Jerry.

"Milton's going out with Grace?" Jack suddenly interrupts.

Kim's heart races from then on. Jerry stills beside her.

* * *

**III. reuniting**

"Jack!" She turns on her high heeled sneakers, standing on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. "I missed you so much!"

The boy doesn't really know what happened, besides what's implied of the relationship of Kim and Jerry, but they spent a few months together after she finished the Academy. Things weren't the same. Kim had developed a new character, one much different than the best friend he used to know, and maybe even a bit more progressive than the last. She was focused, centered, still as stubborn as ever, but she was far from competitive like she used to be. Her skill had been refined, sharpened, and she was possibly as good as Jack—something about that bothered him extremely, and it disappoints him that it did. It started off simple in the beginning; she sparred with him and she was good. She knew all the secrets he knew and she was amazing at her techniques, he could see the improvement. However, it grew worse, she knew more material than he did, and she was incredibly fast at learning things now. Jack was at equals with her…and it was like an itch he couldn't scratch. They fought for everything and of anything, and he couldn't—she deserved better anyway—be with her anymore. It was over before they both knew it.

"I missed you too, Kim," he mockingly replies, making faces at her tight grip. Jerry laughs.

The blonde lets go of him, and steps beside her boyfriend. Jack can't help but smile at how wildly cute they are—it's weird, embarrassing, and gross—but they make so much _strange_ sense. Jerry is docile, loud, easygoing, and lazy, while Kim is just a rigid prune sometimes—don't tell her he said that—and she needs someone like him. He can't count the amount of times he's seen her smile around him, but it seems like it's all the time, and it seems like she's doing it more than when she did it with him. It's kind of why he stopped caring about it years ago—well that and the fact that he has a fiance he should be more concerned about—and just let her be happy. He could see the difference so quickly when she was with Jerry than when she was with him, and he still loves her, he always will, but they're friends and that's all.

"You never answer my calls," Kim suddenly tells him, crossing her arms. She holds a tiny pout on her face, but he can see it's a fake one, and he laughs at how silly she's being. He doesn't really have time for calls, when he's in the middle of making wedding arrangements and schooling students in his class. It's more than a busy life for him. "I called like fifteen times last week to see if you were still coming."

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" he tries to poke at her, making small puppy pouts at her, "besides, Jules has me picking flowers from exotic rain forests that I don't even have time to shave." He points at his tiny beard and slight mustache growing across his jaw and below his nose. "I look like a caveman."

"No," Jerry shakes his head, an innocent expression being painted across it, "I think you look more like a viking."

"Yeah!" Eddie nods vigorously, his eyes lighting up. "You do look a viking."

"Not helping," Jack curtly responds, his eyes rolling in annoyance. There's a brief moment in which he looks like he's about to say something in response, but his words are stolen by the blonde girl below him. It's exactly the reason he'll always love her. She seems to be his only defendant in any of the cases that are held before him.

"Alright, _alright_, guys, stop—"

"Yeah," Milton interrupts, as he walks forward, his jacket slinging from left to right, "besides, he looks more like a werewolf."

Immediately, the whole group—even Kim—starts laughing, their cheeks growing red. Jack shakes his head in offense and surprise. He seriously hadn't expected that comment and he knows that that's probably why he should attend more reunions. Milton's got even more snarkier and wittier through the years, probably because of this Grace thing, and he never knows how to respond. Even as they all stare at him with slightly wet eyes and fingers extended in his direction, he doesn't feel like saying anything in response. In actuality, there might be a small twinge of nostalgia pouring out of him in the midst of their laughter. Of course, he won't admit it, even as the smile threatens to mask the offense he's taken in the hurtful—seeing as he is very insecure about his beard anyway, even with his wife's adoration for it—quip.

"Very funny," he lastly says, before they all take a seat at the red bench and try to act like civilized adults.

And when he notices Kim holding Jerry's hand underneath the table, hers above his, he thinks it might have been good on his part to let her go. It's a weird thought and one he takes in during the ramblings of Eddie's traveling stories, but he finds that he's really happy and maybe even a little proud to see his friends together, and in love, for so long. Now, he just has to do the same with his partner. _Wish him luck._


End file.
